Don't You Need Me?
by piinkiice
Summary: Futurefic. This is the story of Harry and Hermione's daughter, Augusta. She is a ballet dancer, and Hogwarts is the last place she wants to go. There is no magic in the world of ballet. WARNING: character death and cutting in later chapters.
1. Prologue

**Title**: Don't You Need Me?  
**Author**:piinkiice (HarryHermioneForever, **Rating**: PG-13 for later chapters where there will be character death and cutting.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't Harry Potter or any of these characters except the one's you don't recognize. (That means Nolan, Augusta, and Charlotte, for the most part...)  
**Author's** **notes**: I wrote this story in parts...so I have the beginning finished, but I wrote the middle before I wrote the beginning or the end. So there are still some gaps I need to fill in, and then beta-ed, so updates will not be consistent. **Thanks to my beta EMILY**!  
**Summary**: Futurefic. This is the story of Harry and Hermione's daughter, Augusta. She is a ballet dancer, and magic is the last thing she wants. There is no magic in the world of ballet.

* * *

**Prologue**

"Harry! Oh, Harry!" Hermione rushed into the study where her husband was doing some paperwork. "Yes, love?" Harry murmured without glancing up. Hermione was glowing. "Harry, I'm pregnant!" At this, Harry's head snapped up. "What? Are you sure! Please tell me you're not joking!"

Harry and Hermione had been trying for almost three months to conceive but there had been nothing...until now. "You're not _joking_, are you, love!" Hermione bit her lip to try and suppress her smile. She shook her head with glee and jumped into Harry's arms. He was planting kisses all over her face and they were laughing like school children.

"Do you know how far along you are?"

"Only about three weeks or so...oh, Harry! I'm so terribly happy."

"Me too, love. So terribly happy!" They laughed and laughed.

And so it was. And so it was...

* * *

It was about four weeks later. Harry decided to come home for lunch instead of eating at the office. Ever since Hermione's announcement of her pregnancy, he had been the happiest man alive. Finally, _finally_, he would have a true family of his own. He couldn't help but spoil her terribly. How could he not? The mother of his child? Harry also found himself rather aroused by Hermione's pregnancy. He couldn't keep his hands off her and found it quite interesting that they had never had better sex than they were having now.

Anyway, as Harry stepped through the fireplace, he couldn't help but notice how the house was unusually silent. The dim living room at noon made the home seem eerie. "H..Hermione?" There was no answer. "Hermione!" Harry was near panic. Although he had vanquished the Dark Lord in his first year of Auror training, there were still quite a few Death Eaters about. And they were angry. Especially with Harry.

He tuned his Auror-trained ears and eyes for any noise or movement. There was...nothing. His common sense finally kicking in, Harry went to look for his beautiful wife.

He searched all over the house until finally, in a back bathroom that was hardly used, he found her. She sat with her knees hugged to her chest, eyes wide. He noticed there were dried tear stains on her cheeks. "'Mione? Hermione, love. What is it?" Harry tucked a loose strand of hair behind her left ear. She didn't answer at first. Then, without any emotion, she announced: "I got my period today."

The reality hit Harry like a ton of bricks. He felt his breath catch in his throat. "Oh, Merlin, Hermione." Though she was still frozen, Harry crouched down next to her and drew her into a hug...

He was the first to crack. Once the tears came, he couldn't stop. The tears were flowing free, and he couldn't help the choking sob that came from deep within his chest.

Then she cracked. Her tears trickled slowly, her lips turned red and chapped, and soon she was hiccupping. They sat there for a good long while until Harry stood up, Hermione still clinging to him. "Let's go to the living room. I'll make you some tea and I'll call in sick for the rest of the day. Does that sound okay to you, love?" Hermione just nodded.

Harry helped Hermione walk to the couch in the living room. He brought her a cup of tea and a warm blanket. After tucking her in, and kissing her forehead, he walked to the fireplace. Once he was connected, he asked to speak with Tonks.

"Wotcher Harry! You better hurry; your lunch break's almost over!" Tonks laughed and changed her hair color from purple to red.

"Uh, Tonks? I won't be coming in the rest of the day."

"Yes you will. You're in your second year of training. Every minute is more important than the last!" Tonks was getting irritated. Just because he was the Boy-Who-Lived and the Boy-Who-Defeated-Ol'-Voldie did _not_ give him special privileges.

"You don't understand, Tonks. I need to stay here."

"Why." Tonks glared at Harry.

"Because Hermione needs me right now!"

"Wot do you mean, Harry? If you aren't coming in, at least give your trainer a full answer!"

"Hermione lost the baby." Harry muttered. He didn't want to tell her; if Tonks knew, _everyone_ knew.

"Whats that? I can't hear you."

"Hermione lost the baby!" Harry screamed, eyes glimmering with unshed tears. After seeing how utterly _sad_ Harry looked, she gave him the rest of the day as well as the next day off.

"Just come in on Thursday. Give Hermione my best." Harry nodded. Just as he was about to pull his head out of the fireplace, Tonks stopped him.

"Harry? I'm really, truly sorry. I know how badly you two want this...need this." Harry nodded grimly and pulled his head out of the fire.

* * *

The rest of the day passed by slowly. Harry forced Hermione to eat, and Hermione laid on the couch, unmoving. She was still in shock, and nothing Harry could do could bring her out of it. As night grew nearer, Harry suggested they go to bed. As they lay in bed, Harry pulled Hermione in close to him so they were spooning. Just as Harry was about to drift off, Hermione turned around so she was facing him.

He leaned down to plant a loving kiss on the crown of her head and she snuggled even closer to him. She clung to him, to his perfectly toned body, like she clung for her life. Lifting her chin up, she kissed Harry full on the mouth. Soon, they were snogging like they used to atop the Astronomy Tower, once upon a time.

"Harry...Harry, take me." Harry shook his head. "No, Hermione. You're just saying that because you know I want to." She giggled. "You _always_ want to!" Harry laughed deeply. "So true, so true." Harry caressed his love's face gently. "Not tonight, 'Mione. You've been through a lot."

Hermione looked at him, pleading in her eyes. "Please. I need to take my mind off...things..."

And so they made love. Passionate, gentle, slow, and full of feelings, love.

* * *

Throughout the next few months, Hermione miscarried three times; each was more difficult than the last. Finally, Hermione was pregnant and in her sixth month. Harry and Hermione were beside themselves with happiness; this baby was going to live.

With a quick kiss, Harry Apparated to work, leaving Hermione. She worked at home; she was writing a book called S.P.E.W. Out of nowhere, Hermione felt the oh-so-familiar hot, sticky liquid. Quickly, Hermione ran to the bathroom.

She was bleeding. Bleeding everywhere! Why was there so much blood! She had read enough to know that this wasn't good. Her mind was numb and her body was shaking. Her mouth was drier than cotton and she couldn't swallow. She couldn't breathe! She had miscarried before, but she knew she couldn't miscarry in her sixth month. Besides, this was more blood than she was used to. What was wrong with her?

No! This baby couldn't die! It had taken her and Harry the better part of a year to finally conceive and this baby could _not_ die. Her and Harry...Harry! She had to get to Harry. He'd take good care of her. Clutching her swollen belly, she made her way to the fireplace, leaving a slight trail of blood behind her.

"HARRY!" Hermione choked out as her husbands face came into view. Harry's emerald eyes clouded with worry. "What is it, love?" Hermione felt Harry's hand reach out through the Floo and run his fingers through her hair. "I'm...I'm bleeding!" She had never been so scared..._he_ had never been so scared.

Harry had never left his job so quickly. Grabbing his wand off the desk, he shouted to his partner, "Oi! There's an emergency at home. Cover for me!" Without even taking his things, Harry Apparated into the Potter's living room where he found Hermione crumpled on the ground, blood seeping through to the carpet. "Oh lord, 'Mione..." Harry had to bite back a sob as he gently scooped up his unconscious wife into his arms. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead which caused her eyelids to flutter. He knew he had to get her to St. Mungo's quickly. She had lost so much blood. He couldn't bear the thought of losing both his wife _and_ his unborn baby...the baby that was supposed to live...

Swallowing deeply, Harry couldn't decide which way would be best to get her to the wizarding hospital. He wasn't about to Apparate her there. For one, he wasn't even sure Apparating another person was possible. Besides, he had the baby to think about. He also quickly dismissed the thought of walking. They were at least half an hour away and it could cost precious moments. Could he Floo her? It was easier than flying her on his broomstick; that was for sure.

Carefully shifting Hermione so he had a free hand, he grabbed some Floo powder, and within moments, found himself in the St. Mungo's waiting room for "Non-Magical Injuries and Other Health Related Issues". People had begun to stare at the man carrying his pregnant wife. Soon, people realized it was the Potter family, and they stopped to stare.

"Please! Someone help my wife!" Angered no one was coming to help, he started running around the room, frantically trying to find someone. "She's six months pregnant! She's bleeding! Help!" Still, no one approached. Harry began to break down. "Please...help me...help Hermione!" Through the double doors, Harry saw the famous Weasley red hair.

Without hesitation, Harry ran through the doors, even though it was prohibited. "Ginny! Ginny, it's Hermione!" Ginny had become a Healer at St. Mungo's after she graduated Hogwarts. "Oh, Merlin, Harry! Why is there so much blood!" Harry couldn't answer. All he could do was cry. His Hermione...

Ginny, being the amazing woman that she was, found Hermione a wheelchair and a Healer experienced in child birth in a matter of seconds. Harry went to thank her but noticed her face was almost the color of her hair. She marched into the waiting room and announced: "WHAT IN BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON, HERE? A MAN RUSHES IN WITH HIS DYING PREGNANT WIFE AND ALL YOU EFFING FOOLS CAN DO IS GAPE AT THEM? WHO IN MERLIN'S NAME _ARE_ YOU PEOPLE?" Before anyone had a chance to respond, she pulled Harry back through the double doors.

"What can I get you, Harry?" She smoothed back his damp hair as she looked on in horror as to just how shaken he looked. Harry slumped to the floor. "I need to see Hermione." Ginny nodded and helped Harry up. She seated him in a chair just inside the double doors and brought him a glass of iced pumpkin juice. "Ginny..."

Harry looked up. "Ginny, where's my Hermione?" Ginny had to blink back tears at how vulnerable Harry sounded. "Harry, be a dear and just sit here while I find her." Harry looked down again and nodded.

Ginny raced to the Healers station as quickly as she could. Behind the desk was a screen with all the patients' names, their reason for staying at the hospital, and their room number. Using her wand to continue scrolling through the names, she found GRANGER, HERMIONE JANE. PREGNANCY COMPLICATIONS. ROOM 315. Without another breath, she ran back to Harry.

"Harry love, I have her room number. They"  
"What is it? I need it, Ginny!" Harry cut her off.

"They might not let you in!"  
"I don't care. I need to see my wife."

Ginny swallowed. "Room 315." Without a backward glance, Harry dashed back through the double doors to the other side of the waiting room where there was a plaque that said ROOMS 300-329. ODD NUMBERS ONLY à.

Taking her first deep breath in minutes, Ginny came to the realization that Ron would want to be here. Especially if...if...something were to happen to Hermione. But Ginny would rather not think about that. She made her way to the staff room where she knew there was a fireplace to Floo Ron. Owls would take too long.

"Eh up, Gin!" Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. She was glad he had the day off from training. Straight out of Hogwarts, the Chudley Cannons had asked Ron to be their reserve Keeper. When Ron saw how disheveled Ginny looked, he asked nervously, "What's up with you? You've got a face like a wet weekend!"

"Ron. Come here as soon as you can. It's Hermione..."  
"HERMIONE! What's happened to Hermione!" Ron shouted, voice cracking.

"They don't know yet. I've only gathered bits and pieces, but it appears that Hermione Flooed Harry when she started bleeding. He took her here and they still won't tell us what is going on."  
"Blimey. She's bleeding? And she's pregnant! Six months!" Ron seemed to be putting two and two together on just how bad the situation was.

"Yes. Ron, you need to come down here soon. I don't know if...I don't know if the baby...if Hermione..." Ginny let out the sob she had been suppressing since she saw Harry.

"Luna and I are on our way."

* * *

Luckily, the mediwizards had been able to save Hermione and the baby. In fact, exactly three months later, the Potters found themselves back in St. Mungo's. As Hermione was rushed in to give birth, Harry had Flooed Ron to let him know a baby was on the way...

"RON!" Harry tore down the hallways of the hospital. "Ron! I'm a dad!" Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, the Grangers, Luna Lovegood (who was engaged to Ron and pregnant with his baby) and the entire Weasley family sans Percy, Bill and Charlie were all waiting impatiently. Snape was in the corner of the waiting room, and as always, sneering. Somehow Dumbledore had coerced him into coming for the birth of Harry & Hermione's first child. Oh, joy. Hagrid had wanted to come but felt a bit out of place being a half-giant and all.

Harry seemed surprised that everyone had come. "Hi, everyone. I'm a father! The father of the most beautiful and healthy baby girl." Nobody had ever seen Harry so happy before in his life. Perhaps it was because he never truly had a family and was now able to start one of his own.

The news of the birth was greeted with many hugs and kisses (and a handshake with a forced "Congratulations" from Snape) Of course, everyone wanted to see the baby. "Mother and daughter are resting comfortably right now. Maybe in a bit I'll bring my little princess out." Harry just couldn't get the smile off his face!

"Harry, dear, what's the child's name?" Mrs. Granger inquired. Everyone agreed and wanted to know the baby's name. "Actually," Harry stated, "We haven't exactly decided yet..." Harry grinned sheepishly before turning around and practically skipped down the hall. The group chattered and laughed until Harry came back.

But he wasn't alone. In his arms there was a bundle of pink blankets. As he reached the group, he said, "Everyone, I'd like you to meet Augusta Potter..." Harry thought he may have heard Professor Snape snort at the name, but he was too ecstatic to care. "Gus, I'd like you to meet...everyone!" The baby gurgled and (nearly) everyone laughed with mirth.

Harry walked around the room showing off his daughter. "Augusta, this is Uncle Ronnie." Ron laughed and wiggled his fingers in what was a supposed wave. "And this is Aunt Ginny. Say hi to Auntie!" Harry cooed to his baby. "Uncles Fred and George, and Grandma & Grandpa Weasley." Harry gestured as well as he could with one hand. Molly beamed at the thought that Harry considered them parents. "This is Almost Aunt Luna. Say hello to Almost Aunt Luna!" They all laughed. "Grandma & Grandpa Granger, Professor McGonagall, Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Snape."

They all looked on in awe at how much the little princess looked like such a perfect mixture of her parents. She had Hermione's face with Harry's coloring. Of course, she had inherited Harry's piercing eyes and had tufts of black hair. But, she had Hermione's nose and lips. Harry was quite glad she had gotten Hermione's lips because he liked them _very_ much.

* * *

As Harry and Hermione laid their new baby girl down for her first night of sleep, the Potter home practically radiated with love. Harry wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist and Hermione's head rested right below his shoulder. They could have stood there all night just watching their beautiful daughter. After about half an hour, Harry insisted they go to bed. Hermione had, after all, just given birth. As the couple lay down to sleep, Harry said with a smile as wide as ever, "I can't believe I'm a father...I love you, Hermione."

* * *

A few weeks after the birth of their daughter, Hermione and Harry decided it was time to take little Gussie to visit the Dursleys. Petunia and Vernon still lived at Number Four Privet Drive. Dudley still lived with them, though he was scarcely ever there. He decided to take a year off before going to university. It just so happened, that on this fateful day, Dudley was home.

As Harry and Hermione got out of the car (they decided to drive so as not to "freak out" his anti-magic relatives), Hermione squeezed Harry's hand. He managed a smile as she said, "Don't worry, love." Harry held Augusta in his arms and Hermione held the diaper bag.

What the Potters seemed to forget was that in the wizarding world, being married and having children by the age of 19 was normal. Seeing as they finished school at the age of 17, two years was quite enough time before settling down. In the Muggle world, the age of 19 was an age of partying, university, and seeing the world.

Unfortunately for Harry, he had not left the Dorsey's on the best of terms. In fact, they didn't even know Harry was _married_, let alone a father. His relatives had only seen Hermione from afar at Kings Cross!

The day was sunny and warm, for a Sunday in December. As Harry rang the doorbell, his stomach was a bundle of nerves. He gently kissed his daughters head to calm himself and Hermione rubbed his back lovingly.

When Petunia opened the door, her mouth dropped open. "Who is it!" Vernon's voice rang through the house. Without taking her eyes off of Harry, she yelled back. "It's the boy. He has a child," She glanced down at Harry and Hermione's wedding bands. "And a wife."

Now _this_ was something both Vernon and Dudley couldn't miss. "Hello, I'm Hermione...Harry's wife." They all said hello and introduced themselves. Harry lifted the baby girl up over his head and brought her down to him and covered her face in kisses. "And this little princess is Augusta Lily."

"Lily?" Petunia asked.

"For my mother. Augusta because Hermione and I fell in love in August." Hermione's giggle gave him courage. "How very typical of you, boy." Vernon spat.

"Typical?" Hermione asked. She would _not_ tolerate someone speaking to Harry this way.

"Yes. Only you, _boy_ would get a girl pregnant and then be forced to marry her."

Hermione's blood was boiling. "Excuse me, _sir_, but you have no right to speak to Harry this way. He didn't just _get _me pregnant and he wasn't _forced_ to marry me. For your information, Harry and I are very much in love."

"Love? At the age of nineteen? How naive."

"Yes, Uncle Vernon. Love. The wizarding world (The Dursleys cringed in fear of the neighbors hearing the W word) works very different than the Muggle world. We graduated school when we were seventeen and got married the summer after. It's quite common for magical couples to marry at this age."

Hermione cut in, "I've been best friends with Harry since we were eleven years old. I've grown up with him and I've seen him change, and vice versa. He knows me better than anyone else."

"And why do you have a child already? Surely you didn't want to spend time alone, with your wife?" Petunia asked, nose in the air.

"Both of us have always wanted a nice, big family. With loads of children running around the house and a loving mother and father." _Like the Weasleys_ they both thought. "Anyway, we figured, why not start now? We tried for several months to get pregnant..." Harry wiped away a tear of Hermione's.

"Finally, we did, but Hermione had a tough time. She miscarried quite a few times." He put his arm around her in a loving manner. "And then, with this little princess," Harry gazed at Augusta with such fierce love, even Vernon couldn't doubt how much he loved his family, "gave us quite the scare at six months!"

"Yes, but that's hardly important now, dear." Hermione said. She was awfully embarrassed. "Well, we just wanted to show you our daughter." Hermione was becoming uncomfortable under the gaze of the Dursleys. "I guess we'll be off then."

Hermione scooped up the baby into her arms and Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulder. As they got to the door, Petunia said, "Come again, Harry and Hermione. I'd love to see the baby again."

Completely weirded out, Harry and Hermione shared the car ride home in silence, the witch and wizard holding hands.


	2. Chapter 1

**Title**: Don't You Need Me?  
**Author**: piinkiice (HarryHermioneForever, on PG-13 for later chapters where there will be character death and cutting.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't Harry Potter or any of these characters except the one's you don't recognize. (That means Nolan, Augusta, and Charlotte, for the most part...)  
**Author's** **notes**: I wrote this story in parts...so I have the beginning finished, but I wrote the middle before I wrote the beginning or the end. So there are still some gaps I need to fill in, and then beta-ed, so updates will not be consistent. **Thanks to my beta EMILY**!  
**Summary**: Futurefic. This is the story of Harry and Hermione's daughter, Augusta. She is a ballet dancer, and magic is the last thing she wants. There is no magic in the world of ballet.

* * *

**Chapter 1**

Augusta Potter had inherited her love of reading and her thirst of knowledge from her mother, and her looks (mainly) from her father. What she hadn't inherited from anyone was her gift of dance. When Augusta had first started first grade, all the little girls had joined the local ballet school (Darcey Deene's Delicate Dancers). Of course, Hermione and Harry had permitted Augusta to join as well. After some time, when she was in the third grade, little Gussie's talent began to emerge and the head of the ballet school recommended to Mr. and Mrs. Potter that they enroll Augusta in a more serious school in order to shape her. So the family had moved into a more central location in London. Everyday after school, Augusta went to the Royal Ballet School and had her dance training for three hours a night.

When Augusta read, she could lose herself in the characters and in the story. But when she dancedah! When she danced! She lost herself in...Herself! She disappeared and she felt as if there was electricity running through her veins. When she danced, she let everything go and got lost in a world of her own.

* * *

Augusta Potter sat on the train of the Hogwarts Express, eyes wide and mouth open. She, like her father, had gleaming emerald eyes. Her hair was stick straight, and was midnight black. To avoid any unruliness she had gotten from both her parents, her hair was kept in two neat plaits that fell down her chest. Augusta had grown up with her parents in a Muggle town but in a wizard household. She knew about magic and often watched with glee as her parents waved their wands around. She knew about Muggle things as wellmoney, electronics, etc. Unlike most magical children, Augusta went to an ordinary primary school until her Hogwart's acceptance letters arrived. 

Her parents had thrown a party to congratulate her and had invited the usual group: Ron, Luna, and their daughter Charlotte, who was just Augusta's age; Molly and Arthur; Ginny and Draco, who were engaged (Once Lucius died, Draco was able to show his true colors openly); and Fred, George, and their wives Angelina and Alicia. They had invited Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Hermione's parents as well, but they had been unable to make it. As it happened, Charlotte had received her letters the day of the party, so it turned into a party for the two girls.

Although Augusta had seen magic things before, it didn't dampen the excitement of the Hogwart's Express. She sat alone in a compartment towards the back of the train, waiting for Charlotte. She and Charlotte had always been best friends. Charlotte didn't know much about Muggles, and was quite curious. The two girls were rather different, but it didn't stop them from being practically like sisters. Even Charlotte's parents were like a second family. She called them Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna, and Charlotte called her parents Uncle Harry and Aunt Hermione. Augusta smiled to herself as she remembered a memory...

_"Gussie!" Charlotte burst into Augusta's room. She was sitting on her window sill, reading a book. Charlotte was a very hyper girl who looked _nothing _like her father. She had white blonde hair and bright blue eyes just like her mother. She was thin, tall, and wiry, and talked a mile a minute. "Gusta! You know what I _love _about your name!" _

_"What's that?" _

_"You have like a million nicknames! You can be Augusta, August, Gus, Gussie, Gust, Gusta, Gustie...You are _so _lucky." Charlotte let out a light laugh as Augusta wrinkled her nose. "I hate August. I like Gus, though. And what about you? You can be...Charlie!" Charlotte tilted her head to the side. "But my uncle's name is Charlie!" From then on, Charlotte was known as Charlie and Augusta as Gus (usually...although sometimes people called her other things.) _

Unlike Charlotte, Gus was very quiet and kept to herself. She only spoke when it was absolutely necessary and spoke in a soft tone. The girls were each glad the other was going to Hogwart's as neither knew anyone else. The only thing the girls really had in common was that both Augusta and Charlotte were exceptionally beautiful. Quite contrary to Gus's straight, dark hair, Charlie had white blonde ringlets like her mother. Ron and Harry joked that once their daughters went through puberty they'd have to chase the boys away with baseball bats! Of course, Ron didn't know _what_ a baseball bat was, so by the time Harry had tried to explain it, the joke had died.

After about ten minutes, Charlotte finally entered the compartment. "Hey...sorry, Gust. Mum couldn't find her wand..." Both girls shared a nice laugh over this as it was common knowledge that Luna Weasley was constantly forgetting where she set things down. It was a nice sunny afternoon and Augusta thought it rather horrid they had to sit inside in a stuffy train when she could be outside, reading under a nice tree. Charlotte also thought it was terrible, but because she'd rather be outside playing Quidditch. (Which, in fact, her father had taught her to play just this very summer!)

Together, they heaved the heavy window open. On one side of the compartment, Augusta was curled up, legs under her, completely lost in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore. It was on her list, and she figured she better get a head start. On the other side of the compartment, Charlie was sitting, shaking her legs. "I NEED to get _out_ of this train! Do you know how _long_ it's been since my legs moved! I'm getting antsy!"

Augusta looked up and smiled, flashing her perfectly straight teeth before looking back down and reading. "I'm going for a short walk. Wanna come meet the other kids with me?" "No, thanks. I'm reading."

"Aw, come on! Gus, you're _always_ reading! Or dancing! You dance too much."  
"I said no, thanks."

"How do you think you are going to make friends, Augusta? They aren't going to come to you! You have to go to them!"  
"I don't need anymore friends...I have you..."  
"Not if you don't get your act together I'm not! Friendships take two people and I won't let you put all the work on me."

And Charlotte left. Augusta hated how Charlie was always trying to get her to do things with her. It wasn't her fault she wasn't a "people person". So she'd rather read or dance than hang out with friends. That wasn't so wrong, was it? Augusta tried to keep reading, but she knew Charlotte was right. She needed to be more outgoing. So she carefully put her book away and straightened her clothing. She re-braided her hair and swept some lip gloss across her lips.

* * *

Augusta made her way down the hallway, peering into each compartment, looking for her friend. Finally, in the compartment directly across from the Prefects', Augusta found Charlie. She was in the center of a group of boys and girls, and they were all laughing at something she had said. Although Augusta truly wanted to join in, to be the center of attention like Charlotte was, deep down she knew she could never be. She just didn't have it in her. When she got back to her compartment, she sat down to read, but realized what she needed wasn't a book. 

Opening her trunk, she carefully lifted her pointes out. She caressed the pink satin lovingly before gently slipping them on her feet. She shook out her braids and tied her hair in a knot at the nape of her neck. She took off her robes and put on a pair of dance shorts and a tank top. Gripping the bar that surrounded the window, she _pliéd _deeply and rose up to pointe. In her head, she thought: _Tuck in, lift up...tendu, point, plié...arabesque to pencheé, and plié...demi por de bras to cambré forward. Lift up to cambré back._ _Coupee to passé, developé side. Turn out. Turn out! _In her heart...in her heart, she heard music. She heard the Nutcracker Suite, and then she heard The Firebird. After that, her heart sang to her the music of Giselle's opening variation. Finally, she listened to the Tarantella from Swan Lake. She wasn't sure how long she had been dancing, but when she stopped, she was sweating and she was breathless. Funny how she didn't notice that while she was dancing.

She heard a soft applause behind her and she jumped. She hadn't noticed anyone was watching her. It was a boy, about her age, maybe he was older. He had soft blond hair and clear blue eyes. "Hullo! I'm Nolan. Didn't mean to startle you, there."

"That's alright. I'm Augusta."

"Augusta? That sounds like an American name!" They shared a good laugh and got to talking.

Augusta learned that Nolan was in his third year. He was a Slytherin, but not by default. His parents were both in Slytherin, as were the rest of his family members going back at least twenty generations. Originally, the Sorting Hat had wanted to put him in Hufflepuff, but for fear of the reactions of his family, had _begged_ the Hat to sort him into Slytherin. Because Nolan wasn't as "Slytherin-like" as the rest of his house, he was shunned and had no friends to speak of.

The other Houses ignored and avoided him because he _was _a Slytherin, and his housemates ignored and avoided him because he _wasn't _a Slytherin. When Augusta told him that she was a Potter, he didn't seemed surprise. "You look a lot like them. Well, you mostly look like your father."

"That's what people say."

"And what else do they say?"

"I got my thirst of knowledge from my mother, apparently."

"And what about your dancing?"

"My dancing? I don't know. I sort of...came upon it."

"You're lucky. I wish I had somewhere I could go to..."

"Go to? What are you talking about? I was here."

"Here? No, Gus, you weren't. You were somewhere else...Hey, can I ask you something? I don't know if it's personal or not..."

"Go ahead."

"What do you _feel_ when you dance?"

"What do I _feel_?" Nolan nodded.

It took a while for Augusta to answer. Cocking her head to the side, she answered slowly, "I don't know, Nolan. But when I dance..." She closed her eyes. "When I dance, I'm free. I lose myself in the music. Sometimes it's the music playing, but it's usually just the music in my heart. But when I dance and I feel the music in my bones..." Augusta took a deep breath in. "It's the only place I ever truly felt at home." She opened her eyes slowly, and she realized her eyes were tearing.

"I guess _that's_ what I feel." Nolan grunted in acknowledgement. "Blimey." Then there was silence. Neither knew what to say to the other; both were plainly aware they had just shared something quite raw and special.

* * *

After a bit, Nolan left, leaving Augusta alone with her book. Some time passed, more chapters read, and Charlie burst in, face flushed with excitement. "Too bad you missed out, Gus. I missed you." Charlotte laughed and Augusta looked up. She knew she could say something on how she really knew she didn't miss her. She was just saying it to say it. But Augusta just wasn't like that. 

"Thanks. I'm sure it was brilliant."

"It _was_ brilliant! I met most of our year, you know."

"Oh, that sounds lovely. I hope you gave them my regards."

"Your regards? I did no such thing. If you want friends, you have to find them yourself. I'm not your slave!" Augusta didn't like the way how pompous Charlotte sounded. Although Augusta was not mean and did not pick fights, she was not a pushover either. She wouldn't let Charlie keep talking this way.

"What has gotten into you, Charlie? Do you hear the way you're speaking to me? Your best friend? I will not tolerate being spoken to this way...especially by you." But Charlotte simply tossed her nose up in the air. "You're just jealous of my popularity."

"Charlotte, please get out. Go to your new friends. I don't want to see you right now..." Gus kept a calm, yet even tone. With a _hmph!_ Charlie left.

* * *

Augusta stepped off the train and looked in wonder at the Hogwart's Castle, though it was in the distance. She heard "Firs' Years! Fir's Years over here!" HAGRID! Hagrid had been introduced to Augusta when she was just a baby. He was almost as close to her family as Ron and Luna were. 

"Hagrid!" Augusta ran towards the half-giant, arms wide open. He embraced her deeply and she almost cried she was so happy to see him. "'Ello there, Gussie. How're yer parents?"

"They're just brilliant. I'm so glad to see you, Hagrid."

"Me too. Where's Cherlie?"

Augusta turned to look over at her shoulder. Of course, Charlie already had a group following her. Augusta turned back to Hagrid, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

"Ah. I see. Well, she'll come 'round soon 'nough." Augusta nodded though she didn't really think Charlie would.

"C'mon, follow me any more firs' years? Min' yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

* * *

Once the class got to Hogwart's, Professor McGonagall took over. Although Augusta had known Professor McGonagall the same amount of time she had known Hagrid, she never felt as if she knew her as well and didn't feel as close to her. As McGonagall told them all about each of the houses, Augusta suddenly felt a surge of panic. The Hat wouldn't put her in _Slytherin_ would it! Surely not... 

But what about Charlie? She knew her Charlie had some Slytherin-like qualities. But she was also quite bright. Maybe the Hat would put her in Ravenclaw. Not every insufferable know-it-all snob was put into Slytherin...Augusta suddenly felt rather guilty of thinking that about Charlotte. Even if it _was_ true. But the Hat could also put her in Gryffindorshe was, in fact, a Weasley. Augusta had no doubt in her mind that Charlotte would not be in Hufflepuff. There was no way! She just wasn't...like that.

Augusta was snapped out of her daze as the first years lined up. As they marched down the center of the Great hall, Augusta's knees were trembling. She did _not_ do well with crowds...not well at all.

Finally, the Sorting Hat began its song. As it finished, the Great Hall erupted in applause. And so the sorting began. The Hat sorted alphabetically by first name, so Augusta was third to go. Both girls that went before her ended up in Hufflepuff. "POTTER, AUGUSTA!"

The Great Hall went silent for a bit before it erupted in chatter. "Augusta Potter!" "_The_ Potter? As in Harry and Hermione Potter!" "She looks just like them!" "Did she say _Potter_?"

With a trembling body, Augusta sat down on the three-legged stool.

_Ah! A Potter!_ Gus gulped. _Let's see. Hmmm. Difficult! Just as difficult as your father was. Even your mother was difficult...Lily and James were difficult as well. Some of them, you know, are quite simple._ Augusta cleared her throat. _Oh, yes. We must sort you. Ah...you are quite bright, but you also are kind and gentle. You are modest and shy, as well. But you have the makings of a great hero. It's all here, in your head. Where to put you? "_Not Slytherin! Not Slytherin!" Augusta begged mentally. _Not Slytherin, eh? Not to worry, I've already decided. Better be_GRYFFINDOR!

The Gryffindor table cheered. Another Potter to add to their list! Augusta looked around the table nervously, but all she found were smiling faces and greetings of "Congradulations!". There was nothing to be scared of...Looking around her, she caught Nolan's eye and he winked. Augusta felt all her fears diminish. Crowds weren't that bad! If Nolan could do it, so could she.

Soon after Gus, it was Charlie's turn to be sorted. It seemed that her Sorting, so far, was the longest. Finally, the Hat made it's decision: Gryffindor.

Charlie bounced off the stool and practically skipped to her spot at the table. She enthusiastically said hello to nearly everyone within earshot without barely a glance towards Gus.

* * *

That night, as Gus lay in bed, she took in her surroundings. In her dormitory was her, Charlotte, Ivy, and Bridget. Unfortunately for her, Ivy and Bridget had succumbed to Charlotte's manipulative ways (already) and had yet to say a word to her. Gus leaned over the side of the bed and got out some parchment and a quill to write a letter to her parents: 

_Mum and Dad:  
I'm in Gryffindor! Charlie is, too. I've made a friend (oh, don't look so surprised!) His name is Nolan Thomas and he's a third year Slytherin. But there's something else I wanted to talk to you about. Ever since the train ride, Charlie has been acting strange. She told me that I wasn't outgoing enough for her...I don't think she wants to be friends with me anymore. It isn't true that I dance too much, is it? Because that's what she told me. I miss you guys a lot. I don't think I'm going to have as good a time here at Hogwart's as you did, but I'll learn loads. I miss dancing, and I miss London. But most of all, I miss you._

_Love Augusta x_

_PS - Tomorrow I have Potions! I cannot wait to see if Professor Snape is as horrid as you say he is!

* * *

_

**Ballet Terms: **

**Tendu: **Tendu means "beatings". The leg stretches out, ending in a strongly pointed foot.  
**Plié: **A stretching exercise where the knees bend directly over the toes, outward, to form a diamond shape.  
**Arabesque: **Position where the dancer stands on one leg with the other extended behind.  
**Pencheé: **Means to lean. A tilting of the body to achieve an exteme picture. An example is when the dancer is in an arabesque at 90 degrees. She then pushes her working leg upward and over, pushing the body down towards the supporting leg to achieve a much greater angle between legs, often resulting in a 180-degree split. **  
Por de bras: **Means "carriage of the arms". Either: How a dancer uses his arms. OR Specific movements of the arms, as first port de bras, second port de bras, etc. OR Sometimes used instead of cambré. A grand port de bras is a circular bend, either toward the barre, then down, then up away from the barre, and then backward and back toward the barre: or the same thing in the opposite direction. **  
Cambré: **Means to bend. A bend from the waist in any direction, but especially forward or back.**  
Coupee: **Means "on the neck of the foot". A position where the foot is placed on teh calf just above the ankle. In the Russian school, the foot is actually wrapped around the ankel, with the heel forward and the toes back. The foot may be places on the front of the calf, the side, or back.**  
Passé: **When one leg is drawn up the side of the supporting leg, knee outward, toe touching the side of the supporting leg's knee.**  
Developpé: **Means "to unfold". The leg starts in passe. The aim is to continue to lift the working knee as high as it will go, then stretch or "unfold" the rest of the leg from this position.

* * *

Author Notes: I'd really appreciate it if you took the time to review! 


	3. Chapter 2

**Title**: Don't You Need Me?  
**Author**: piinkiice (HarryHermioneForever, on PG-13 for later chapters where there will be character death and cutting.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't Harry Potter or any of these characters except the one's you don't recognize. (That means Nolan, Augusta, and Charlotte, for the most part...)  
**Author's** **notes**: I wrote this story in parts...so I have the beginning finished, but I wrote the middle before I wrote the beginning or the end. So there are still some gaps I need to fill in, and then beta-ed, so updates will not be consistent. **Thanks to my beta EMILY**!  
**Summary**: Futurefic. This is the story of Harry and Hermione's daughter, Augusta. She is a ballet dancer, and magic is the last thing she wants. There is no magic in the world of ballet.

**Chapter Two**

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making," Professor Snape began, reciting the same lines he recited to every First Year potion class. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses...I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper deathif you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach." Snape let out the breath and mentally congratulated himself on reciting his lines oh-so-well yet again.

Carefully, he let his eyes pass over each student. He paused as he recognized a pair of gleaming green eyes, a button nose, jet black hair, and immaculate posture. No other child other than the child of Potter and Granger could have these characteristics.

"Ah," Snape stated, "Yet another Potter!" Augusta winced as her professor's spit landed harshly on her neck. "What was your name? Something Muggle-ish. Granger must've picked it up in a book." Although Gus was surprised that he recognized her so quickly, she didn't let it show. Snape paced around Augusta, and she suddenly felt that it was hard to swallow. "No...wasn't it a day of the week? A month? Ah, yes! It was a month." The class giggled, but Snape barely paid attention. "July? No...that wasn't it...January? Not quite right...Oh yes! I _do_ believe your name is August. August Potter." This time, the class could not contained themselves as they tittered.

"Actually, _sir_, it's Augusta." Her clear green eyes glared at him from behind her long bangs. "Ah. I see..." Snape paused to stroke his chin as if he were thinking of something. "Let's see if being the child of a celebrity is more than just fame..." Augusta stared up at him, eyes unblinking.

"What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Augusta paused for a moment to think before reciting, "A sleeping powder, sir. This potion is so powerful is known as the Draught of Living Death." She remembered reading it in a book of her mother's. That was something she had inherited from Hermioneher thirst for knowledge.

Snape nodded sharply. "And where, Potter, where would you look for a bezoar and what does it do?"

This one Gus knew at the top of her head. She had read that in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ last night! "A bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat. It will save you from most poisons."

Whatever Severus Snape had been expecting, this was certainly not it. This girl was not only well-mannered, she was intelligent! Snape was surprised, but deep down, he knew he could expect nothing less from the daughter of Harry Potter and Hermione Granger. "Good. And what is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"I'm not sure, Professor." Before he could say anything, Augusta cut back in. "I think, though, that they are the same thing. Well, I think they are the same plant, at least..."

"Very good. I'd like to see you after class." Augusta nodded dumbly, but Snape had already continued on with the lesson, never missing a beat, and marveled at how _quiet_ the girl was. She spoke softly and did not use more words than were necessary.

After the lesson, Augusta gathered her parchments and made her way to Professor Snape's desk. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Ms. Potter...you should not have known the answers to the questions I asked you today. What, did your parents share the stories of their first potions class or something?"

Augusta smiled delicately. "True, mum and dad have shared some memorable Hogwart's stories. But this wasn't one of them. No, I learned about the Draught of Living Death from a book in mum's library...I read about bezoars just this morning in _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_," Augusta laughed quietly at the irony. "And truthfully, I don't remember how I knew about the monkshood plant. It's just one of those things I knew..."

Snape nodded, thinking to himself. "That will be all, thank you. Go on to your next class before you are late."

As Augusta left, she thought to herself how odd it was that her parents had always gone on and on about how terrible Snape was. To her, he just seemed like a man with a troubled past. He wasn't that bad, not really.

* * *

"Hey, Gus!" Gus looked up at Nolan as he put his arm around her shoulder in a friendly way.

"Hello." Augusta flashed one of her famous smiles.

"How has your first day been going?"

"Well, I've only had Potions so far. I caught him off guard, I think. I don't think he was expecting me to know the answers to his questions."

Nolan stopped dead in his tracks. "You knew the answers to his questions?"

When she nodded, confused, he elaborated. "Good for you, Gus! I believe you may be the first person in Hogwarts' history!"

Augusta laughed. "How's Charlotte doing?" Immediately, Augusta stopped laughing.

"That bad, huh?" Gussie nodded. "Well, Augusta, screw her."

"What!"

Nolan looked into her eyes. "You don't need her! Sure, you may have been friends with her your entire life, but people change, and this isn't the same girl I've heard stories about. Make new friends and move on with your life."

_Of course! Why hadn't she thought of it sooner? Forget Charlotte!_

Augusta went to bed that night with a good feeling for the future.

* * *

Augusta woke up feeling refreshed for the first time all year. For the first time she thought to herself, "Everything is going to be okay. I have friends...well, I have a friend. Nolan. And I'm going to make some new ones. I don't need Charlotte. This year is going to be great. This year, is going to be _great_." She got out of bed, took a shower, and went down to breakfast, smiling. Besides, it _was_ almost Christmas!

She smiled at some people, and they smiled back. _This year is going to be great. I don't need Charlotte._ She sat down to eat and smiled at a second year girl. Deciding to try her luck, she introduced herself. "Hi, I'm Augusta. You can call me Gus, though." The girl looked a little shocked to see the Potter girl talking, but she responded. "It's nice to meet you! I'm Kathryn. Call me Kate." She gestured at the group of students around her. "This is Gabriella, but you can call her Ella; Brandon, Alex, and Chantal. Chantal just transferred from Beauxbatons."

"Bonjour! Comment vous aimez l'angleterre si loin?" Augusta asked. "Vous parlez le français?" Chantal asked, surprised. "Un morceau, oui." Augusta was acutely aware that her cheeks were burning with the embarrassment of the attention. "Cela est bon! Où vous a fait apprend?"

"A mon école de ballet, à Londres. Ils ont fait nous apprendre si les termes de ballet ne seraient pas comme difficile à comprendre." After briefly translating their conversation for the other students (**A**: Hello! How do you like England so far? **C**: You speak French? **A**: A bit, yes. **C**: That's great! Where did you learn? **A**: At my ballet school, in London. They made us learn so the ballet terms would not be as difficult to understand.) Their breakfast carried on quite nicely; it felt good to have people to talk with. Sure, she had Nolan, but she didn't see him as often since he was a third year Slytherin and she was a first year Gryffindor.

They were chattering and laughing until Dumbledore came up behind Kate. "Ms. Potter, a word?" Augusta looked up into the Headmaster's eyes. For the first time in her life, they weren't twinkling. After sharing nervous glances with her new friends, and a shout from Chantal ("La bonne chance, mon ami!"), Augusta was off, two paces behind the Headmaster.

Once they were situated in Dumbledore's office, he took a deep breath in and began. "Do you believe in God, Ms. Potter?" Augusta's eyes clouded with confusion. It must have shown because Dumbledore continued on. "Let's see..." Dumbledore tapped his long index finger against his chin as he thought.

"Ah. Ms Potter, if someone lent you something...something beautiful, rare, and_ good_. Would you return it?" Although Gus was still quite confused, she thought her answer through. "After I was finished with it...wait, no. I want change my answer." He nodded, and Gus noticed his eyes still weren't twinkling. "When the person asked for it back, I'd give it to them." Dumbledore seemed surprised.

"Even if you weren't finished with it?"

"Yes...it does belong to them, after all."

"And what if they took it without asking?"

"_Well_, professor, I wouldn't be pleased, but I supposed I'd have to make do..." Gus started to realize something. "Professor, do I have something of yours that you'd like back?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "On the contrary, my dear child, someone has taken something from you." Augusta tilted her head in confusion. "Augusta, last night..._God_...took something from yousomeone." Dumbledore corrected himself.

Her face twisted into an odd sort of frown. "Who died," she stated.

Dumbledore didn't answer at first. "Ms. Potter, I believe that God leads us to each other. When the time comes, he chooses those he treasures the most to return to him. The person that was taken from you was beautiful, and rare, and _good_."

"Headmaster, who died?"

Dumbledore shook his head slowly as he said, "Your mother."

* * *

**Author Note: **I know it's a bit short, but it seemed like the best place to end. As always, please review! And I'd appreciate it if you promoted my story...at the moment, I think I only two or so readers...:-) 


	4. Chapter 3

**Title**: Don't You Need Me?  
**Author**: piinkiice (HarryHermioneForever on PK)  
**Rating:**PG-13 for later chapters where there will be character death and cutting.  
**Disclaimer**: I don't Harry Potter or any of these characters except the one's you don't recognize. (That means Nolan, Augusta, and Charlotte, for the most part...)  
**Author's** **notes**: I wrote this story in parts...so I have the beginning finished, but I wrote the middle before I wrote the beginning or the end. So there are still some gaps I need to fill in, and then beta-ed, so updates will not be consistent. **Thanks to my beta EMILY**!  
**Summary**: Futurefic. This is the story of Harry and Hermione's daughter, Augusta. She is a ballet dancer, and Hogwarts is the last place she wants to be. There is no magic in the world of ballet.

**_WARNING! _**This chapter contains self-harm

**Chapter Three**

The room was spinning. The room was spinning, and Augusta couldn't see anything. The room was spinning and Augusta couldn't open her eyes or swallow, or..."What! What happened...!" There. She found her voice.

"As I was saying earlier, Ms. Potter, God takes away those that he treasures most--"

"Headmaster, I don't care about God. Please tell me what happened." Gus was trying to keep an even voice, but she could tell it sounded high and weird.

"Your parents, along with your Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna and Grandma and Grandpa Weasley went out to supper. From what I hear, the night was progressing nicely...until someone tried to assassinate Arthur. You see, your Grandpa Weasley holds a very, very important job as Minister of Magic. Unfortunately, some wizards don't agree with some of his decisions. Now, if that someone had succeeded in assassinating the Minister..." Albus Dumbledore shook his head.

"And my father? Was he there when she...when she...died?" Augusta had to whisper the last word.

Dumbledore nodded. "That's okay, then. She died...happy." Augusta was in a dreamlike state. She felt out of her body; like she was watching the scene unfold, not as if she was actually a part of it.

"I'm going home, Headmaster. My father needs me..." Augusta swallowed deeply. Dumbledore nodded. "Christmas holiday starts in a week anyway. Come back by next term, my dear girl."

* * *

Augusta took a portkey the next hour. It took her to a park across the street from her home in central London. She dragged her trunk across the street and with a deep breath, opened the door. There wasn't a single light on in the house and the lights from the streets outside cast eerie shadows. She set her trunk down by the door and hung up her winter cloak.

"Dad?" There was no answer. She walked through the house, going to the kitchen first. Her Uncle Ron and Aunt Luna were sitting at the table in hushed voices. When Ron noticed she was there, he got up and enveloped her in a warm hug. Luna rubbed her back as Gus sobbed into her uncle's warm body. When she pulled away, she noticed that her Aunt and Uncle were crying as well.

"Where's dad?" Augusta asked.

"Sleeping, I think." Ron answered.

Augusta's eyes clouded with worry. "Can I see him?"

Luna wrapped an arm around her and let her to a chair. "He won't see anyone. He won't come out. Why don't you give him some time?"

* * *

Augusta spent most of the day just hanging around. She didn't want to go into her room. She knew she had a picture of her and her mother on her window sill above her bed and she didn't want to see it. She remembered the day that picture was taken. It was her very first Nutcracker. At the age of seven, she was the youngest Party Girl. All the other girls were twelve, yet she still danced better than them. Anyway, during intermission, her parents had rushed backstage. She remembered how her father was beaming. He kept repeating, "My princess is a dancer...my princess is a dancer..." Augusta loved when her father called her "his princess". It made her feel so special...

Her mother had been crying that day. Not tears of sadness, but tears of joy. She was so proud..._so_ proud! Luckily, her parents had come just at the right moment, as Gus was just about to change out of her costume. Her mother had practically jumped on her and crushed her with a hug. At that moment, her father had taken the picture. It wasn't a wizard picture. It was just an ordinary picture. But there was something so...captivating about it.

Gus's face was scrunched up in surprise as her mother kissed her cheek. There was a single tear running down Hermione's face. It was so beautiful...

* * *

After three hours of reading in a poorly lit room, and after two showers, four cups of tea, and a whole lot of lying around, Gus decided it was time to go into her room. She opened the door and quietly shut it behind her. The room seemed odd to her. It was exactly the same as when she had left. It didn't feel as if she left at all. Yet, the room seemed almost...stale...to her. Like it hadn't been slept in for many years, instead of only a few weeks.

Her eyes rested on The Picture. Anger consumed her--anger that she had never before felt in her life. She ran to the picture and slammed it down. Glass shattered and shards of it landed on her bed. She tried picking up the pieces of glass, but there were too many and they were too small. Such frustration! Blind in her anger, she picked up a shard of glass and ran it down the underside of her arm.

Only after her arm started bleeding did she realize what she had done. "_Evanesco:_ She cried, pointing her wand at her arm. It was a spell she had read about once. Of course, since she had never tried it before, it didn't work. _"Evanesco!" _Nothing happened. _"Evanesco!"_ The blood kept dripping down as batch of fresh tears trickled down her face.

Augusta ran to the bathroom, making sure her Aunt or Uncle didn't see the blood. As she washed the blood off, she couldn't help but notice how oddly comforting the stinging pain was...

* * *

Grandma Weasley brought over dinner that night. Grandpa Weasley came over as well. He was a little hesitant at first; he felt awfully guilty. But Gussie ran into his arms and whispered, "I don't blame you, grandpa. Mum would have done it for anyone. I love you..." After that, dinner went by almost smoothly. "Can I bring dad his dinner?" But apparently, her father had requested they put a warming charm on the plate; he wasn't hungry and would eat later.

Gus didn't understand. Why wouldn't they let her see him? She knew he needed her...needed to see his little princess. What were they so scared of her seeing, anyway? Didn't they know she was bright? She knew what grief did to people!

But they all gave her a different reason. "You can see him tomorrow, dearie." Molly said.

"Why don't you just give him some time, sweetheart?" Ron suggested.

"I can help you study, if you'd like." Luna offered.

Arthur didn't say anything.

* * *

That night, as Gus got into bed, she thought not about her mother, but about Charlie. She didn't even know if Charlie knew about Hermione. Well, she _must_ know...it would be all over the Daily Prophet by tomorrow, anyhow. But when Gus had left, Charlie was in class. Maybe she would come for the Christmas holiday...

Augusta fell into a restless sleep. She dreamed that she was running and running and running. Soon, she wasn't running, but dancing--flying! She saw a small, white candle in the middle of a dark, dark room; she wasn't dancing anymore. As she got closer to the candle, it suddenly went out, leaving her alone and blind to the light.

Gus sat up with a start, breathing heavily. Walking out of her room quietly, she went to get a glass of cold water. On the way to the kitchen, she saw a small light on in the den. Wondering who would be up at this hour, she went to investigate. What she saw made her breath catch in her throat.

Her father was sitting on the tan leather couch. His hair was even more disheveled than usual and he had terrible stubble on his chin. His dinner was on the table in front of him, still untouched. He stared straight ahead, eyes unwavering. She couldn't contain herself anymore. She ran over to her father and sat next to him on the sofa.

Wrapping her arms around his middle, she cried, "Oh, daddy..." As her tears soaked through his shirt, he seemed to come to and realize his daughter was there, hugging him. Slowly and almost numbly, he smoothed back her hair. "My little princess...my Gussie...Oh, Gus..." They sat there for a while, Harry rocking his daughter to ease her tears.

Harry must've realized it was the middle of the night, because he asked his daughter, "Gussie, what are you doing up, darling?" She was going to tell him about her nightmare...how awful it was...how she read in a book that a candle going out is a terrible omen...but she didn't want to worry him anymore. "I couldn't sleep...its awfully strange being here." Gus could tell her father nodded, though she didn't see it.

They sat there in silence for a bit. "Gus, do you know who the Dursleys are?"

"Yeah...aren't they the people that raised you?" She said as she yawned.

"Tomorrow, Gus, we're going to see them. They haven't seen how beautiful you've grown to be...and someone needs to tell them about your mother...it's time for bed, Augusta."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The next morning, when Augusta awoke, she forgot where she was. Then, suddenly, she remembered. Needles poked at the back of her eyes and tears threatened to spill over. Choking back the lump that was rising in her throat, Gus took a long, hot shower. Once she was dressed and ready for the day, she went to the kitchen and looked at the clock. It was 9:00 am...that left...two hours before her father was to take her to Little Whinging.

She passed the time by tidying up around the house. At 10:30, Augusta became confused. Her father should at least be in the shower by now. Quietly making her way down the dark hallway, Augusta paused outside her father's room. She put her ear to the door to listen for any sign of movement, but there was none. Just as she was about to knock, Ron stopped her.

"Uncle Ron?"

Ron gestured for her to be quiet and brought her to the guest bedroom next door. "I'm taking you to the Dursleys. Are you ready to go?"

"Why are you taking me? What about Dad? Last night he said--"

"Your dad isn't up to taking you this morning," Ron interrupted her. "He owled me earlier this morning and asked me to take you instead."

"I don't get it...he was fine last night. He told me he'd take me!"

"Well, Augusta, your father didn't get any sleep last night. He isn't doing well, honey. He misses your mother very much."

"And I don't! I miss her just as much as he misses her! It's not fair! He got more time with her than I did! I miss her too and I can get out of bed! Why can't he?" Ron shook his head, at a loss for words. "Let's go, Gus."

Gus shook her head. "If he's not going, then neither am I!" She knew she was being childish, but it wasn't fair! Her father needed her to take care of her.

"Fine, then. I'll go alone." As Ron stepped out of the room, Augusta instantly felt guilty and followed him. "I'm sorry, Uncle Ron. Let's go."

They took a Portkey as Ron didn't know how to drive (on the ground that is. He was rather good at driving old Ford Anglia's that flew...). He put his arm on her shoulder as they knocked on the door. "Ready, Augusta?" She nodded. They rang the doorbell and Vernon started speaking before he even opened the door. "Boy, you said you'd be here at tea time. Do you know what time it is? It's _past_ tea time. I will not stand for my guests being so late..." He was about to continue when he realized it wasn't Harry at the door.

"Who're you lot?"  
"I'm Augusta." At his blank look, she elaborated. "Augusta Potter. Harry is my father."  
Vernon Dursley's eyes narrowed. He tilted his head in Ron's direction. "And you? You aren't a _freak_ too, are you?"  
"Ron," Ron's voice cracked like it used to when he was nervous at school, "Er, my name is Ronald Weasley sir. Best friend of Harry and..." Ron whispered, "Hermione."

"Ronald Weasley...Weasley...I've heard the name..."  
"Yes, uh...my brothers and I 'rescued' Harry one summer in our flying car. We also took him to the Quidditch World Cup when we were fourteen. And I may have called back when I didn't know how to use a fellytone." Ron cleared his throat, trying to sound professional. "Telephone." Augusta whispered. "Right, er, telephone."

"And you're best friends with Harry?" Ron nodded. "And Hermione? Where are they?"  
"Maybe we should go inside." Augusta suggested.

As they sat down at the kitchen table, they waited for Petunia to join them. Dudley was now living in America, trying to make a living as a Boxing Champion. "Right," Petunia said. "Harry called us yesterday saying he had a matter of importance to discuss with us..."

"Yes, well, you see..."  
"Uncle Ron? Do you mind if...?" Ron nodded for her to continue. "Well, my father wanted to come and tell you himself, but he's going through a rather tough spot."  
"Always knew he didn't have it in him to have a family of his own!" Vernon supplied.

"_Actually_, **Sir**, my mother died two days ago," Petunia gasped. "That's why he's a bit off and why she's not here now, and that's why _we're_ here." Augusta looked down. She hated when people saw her crying.  
"The funeral is in three days, if you'd like to come. It's at Hogwarts, and as there are anti-Muggle wards, you will have to let us know if you are planning on coming by tomorrow so we can figure out how to get you there." Ron cut in.

"How did she...?" Vernon asked, sounding not warm, but curious.  
"She blocked a curse aimed for the Minister of Magic...my father." Ron wiped away a tear.  
"We'll be there, dear. So will Dudley. Just let us know the plan..." Petunia said. It was rather curious how death could bring people together.

Though Harry wore his nicest suit to the funeral, it was still clear that he hadn't showered or slept for days. As he stepped up to say a few words, he stopped to stroke the tree lovingly. "This was 'Mione's favorite tree. She used to sit under this tree for hours. Sometimes she'd bring piles of books to read. And sometimes she'd do homework...sometimes she'd just sit and think. Sometimes I'd join her. Usually I didn't, though."

Harry laughed ironically as he continued. "I used to hide, over there by that tree?" Harry pointed and everyone turned around to look. "Before she knew I loved her. I used to watcher her...the wind blowing through her hair...the way she smiled when she read something she liked. God, she was beautiful..._was!_ Goddamnit! She IS beautiful..." Harry broke down crying. He tried to control himself, but he couldn't. If people weren't crying before, they were crying now.

Even the Durselys dabbed their eyes a bit. When Snape felt his eyes tearing, he put on his usual sneer, but it didn't help. "I'm sorry..." Harry took a deep breath in that wavered. "Uh, I wrote a letter to Hermione..." Harry cleared his throat and uncrumpled the piece of parchment as he stepped up to the microphone.

"_My dear, dear Hermione:_

_I can still remember the first time I met you. Ron and I had just met…we were on the Hogwarts Express. In you walked, nose in the air, asking if we had seen Neville's toad."_ Harry paused to wipe his tears and blow his nose.

_"I remember being so entranced by you, 'Mione. I was so angry with you, but still entranced. All I could think of was how you marched in talking to us in your know-it-all voice. I was so angry that you dared speak to us that way..._

_But then, Ron and I rescued you from that troll. I suppose that's when we became friends. Our time at Hogwarts was memorable; there's no denying that. You and Ron helped me fight off Voldemort and his followers nearly every year! You were always there for me..." _Harry closed his eyes. Taking a deep breath in, he continued.

_"And then we fell in love. The summer before our sixth year. That was the summer that Sirius died..." _Harry shook his head. _"That was when we fell in love..._

_My dear, dear Hermione, not a day will go by where I won't think of you. You gave me everything! You gave me love; a reason to live...you gave me a family. I know we wanted to fill the house to the brim with children. Beautiful children! I suppose that isn't going to be happening now."_ Harry stopped to breathe._ "Do you remember that time, 'Mione when you asked me what I feared? We were sitting under Your Tree. I think it was the first or second week of Sixth Year. I had you in my arms as you read one of your many books. I was just watching you, as always…suddenly, you looked up. 'Harry?'"_

Harry looked down as if trying to picture the scene perfectly. Harry looked up, the scene playing vividly in his mind.

_'Harry?'_ _You asked me again. You turned around looking up into my eyes. 'Hm?' I asked you. 'What do you fear?'"_ Harry laughed and shook his head, completely lost in the moment.

_"It took me a while to think of what I feared. I feared many things. I feared Voldemort, I feared Dementors and Professor Snape." _Harry paused as a few people tittered uncomfortably. "_I feared spiders and the Giant Squid in the Lake...then, it hit me.'I fear death.' I told you. You seemed surprised by my answer. Don't you remember, Hermione? 'Death? How can you fear death? Death is but the next great adventure!' You argued._

_'Death takes away people.' I countered. 'I fear losing the people I love.' I confessed to you." _Harry ended his story and continued on:

"_Well, Hermione, I don't fear death anymore." _Harry looked up to the sky and opened his arms wide. _"ASK ME WHAT I FEAR!"_ Harry shouted to the sky. There was no response. Then, barely audibly, Harry said, "_I fear life without you."_

Augusta couldn't contain herself any longer. She promised herself she wasn't going to cry...she wasn't. But seeing her father so...so _vulnerable_ made her break her promise. When the tears started running, she just wiped them away. But when violent sobs racked her body, she needed to leave. She was sitting in the first row so when she ran down the aisle, everyone turned around and watched them, pity etched onto their faces.

She ran down the path as her tears and runny nose mixed together. Her braids whipped behind her as she gained speed and when she entered the school, she slumped to the ground, her crying getting the best of her.

She didn't know what to do! She had never felt so _lost_ before. Usually when she felt bad, she'd dance...if she didn't have the space to dance, she'd read. But she didn't feel it was appropriate to dance at her mother's funeral and she hadn't brought a book along...not like reading was appropriate either, though.

Not knowing what else to do, she pushed up the sleeve of her robes. Fingering her cut gently, she realized what she needed to do. Looking for a sharp edge, but not finding one, Augusta slipped off her ring. Her mother had given it to her when she was accepted to Hogwarts. It was emerald--the same color as her eyes--and it had the sharp edges belonging to the flower petals. Perfect.

When she saw the blood flowing, a sense of relief washed over her. Her head snapped up as she heard footsteps coming. _"Evanesco!"_ Still, the spell had no effect. Finally, after the third try, the blood disappeared. She definitely needed to practice that. The footsteps stopped.

Looking behind her, she saw the all too familiar black robes of the Potions Master. He had seen her. But why was he going back to the funeral if he had seen her? Surely he would want to discuss the matter...maybe he hadn't seen. Or maybe he simply did not care.

When Augusta had finally returned to the funeral, she tried to avoid everyone's eyes. She knew what they were thinking: _Poor girl. Poor, poor little girl. Lost her mother and is losing her father to heartbreak._ As they lowered her mother's body into the ground, it took all of Augusta's willpower to not latch on to the casket screaming, "Mummy! Mummy, come back...I need you!" But she knew it was not right. She didn't want to make everyone feel even sadder than they already did. Besides, she had just cut...and that made her feel a bit better, anyhow.

Once Hermione Granger was buried in the ground, Harry looked around, clueless. What was he supposed to do now? He must have looked at loss, because Augusta jumped up to her father's side. Grasping his hand tightly, she whispered, "Daddy, let's go home." He nodded and they made their way to the Ministry car waiting for them.

As they walked down the aisle, Augusta saw Charlotte. She was sitting in between her parents, sobbing into her mother's arms. Instantly this angered Augusta. Why should Charlie be sad! It wasn't as if _she_ didn't have a mother anymore! It wasn't fair! It wasn't fair!

As they passed the Charlotte, Gus looked away. The last person she wanted to see right now was Charlie. Passing Charlie's family, Ron stood up and joined them. Although Gus was nearly eleven, he scooped her up into his arms. "You okay, sweetheart?" Gus couldn't respond. How could she say she wasn't? It just wasn't the time or place. Besides, Ron loved her, too. "I miss her, too, Gus." As he put her down, Augusta managed a small smile and murmured, "I know." Taking her father's hand again, they were off.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

After the funeral, Gus's father went back to his room and stayed there until Augusta left to return to Hogwarts. He gave her a hug and a promise to send her letters. Augusta kissed her father's forehead and promised him he'd be okay. She told him she'd be back as soon as she could. Ron took her to the Hogwarts Express with Charlie. As soon as they arrived on the Platform, Charlie scurried off to join her friends. Ron turned to face Gus and kneeled down to her level.

"Gussie, I know things are getting tough for you right now. What with starting a new school, having problems with your best friend, and...and...and losing your mother...I will--everyone will--understand if you need to Floo home once in a while. So keep in touch, okay?"

Augusta nodded, though she knew she wouldn't Floo home. Although her father needed her to take care of him, he needed her to be strong, too.

Making sure nobody was watching her, Augusta danced down the hallway. After all, that was what empty hallways were for! _Tambe pas de bourre, glissade, grande jete._ A tingling sensation flowed through her body as she danced.

"Ohhh. Look at ickle Gussie, showing off her dancing again!" Charlotte jeered at her former best friend. Augusta looked on in horror as her fellow first years laughed. Augusta shook her head in disappointment. What was Charlie thinking? "I bet you only dance for attention, you insufferable git!" Charlotte volunteered.

"Charlotte!...Charlie...you don't mean that. You know what dance means to me." Charlotte only laughed. "What it means to you? Ha! You dance so people will think...no, so people will _know_ just how _"talented"_ you are!"

This was the last straw. Augusta rarely ever got angry with people--it just wasn't worth it--but when she did, it was not pretty. "Charlotte Lola Weasley! _How dare you._ I don't dance for attention or so people will know what sort of talent I possess!"

"Augusta Lily Potter!" Charlotte mocked. "How dare _you!_ Of course you dance for attention! It's _obvious!_" She laughed. People still joined in, but they were beginning to realize that this feud ran deep and maybe this fight was just between the two girls. "I don't dance for attention. I dance for me."

Charlotte masked her surprise with a smirk. "You know, Augusta. There's a reason you have no friends." Augusta's eyes began to water. "And what's that reason, Charlie?"

"_You _think you're better than everyone else. _You_ think that just because you're a famous Potter and you're a _dancer_ and because you're the brightest witch in our year you're too good to be friendly with anyone."

"That's not true. They just don't like me because of the awful things you've said about me to them!" Augusta turned to the group. "I bet most of those things aren't even true. Haven't you ever wondered _why_ all she does is talk about me? She's jealous!" Gus knew she was being immature, but she didn't really care. Augusta turned back to Charlotte. "You're just jealous of me. And I do have friends. I have Nolan! And he knows me better than you do. He's a better friend than I bet most of the people in your little group!"

"Ha! Nolan...he's a social outcast."

"Why should that matter? He's a good person, and that's more than you can say."

"You little bitch! You know what I think? You're just like your mother. I think it's for the better that she got herself killed. She deserved it."

Even her group knew that Charlotte had gone too far. Hermione Granger Potter died a heroic death, and no one could deny that. Augusta didn't even have the heart to respond. She ran through the halls, tears blinding her. She didn't know where she was going. She didn't even care. She couldn't stand Charlotte these days. Why was she so horrid? Oh _Merlin_ she was horrid!

It wasn't true what she said. None of it was! She didn't dance for attention and she didn't think she was better than everyone else. And above all, her mother did _not_ deserve to die.

She found herself on the seventh floor, opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy. She was out of breath from running and took to pacing. All she wanted was to be free. She didn't even know what that meant, but she knew she wanted it. She hated Hogwarts and she hated magic. But most of all, she hated Charlotte Weasley. She wanted to be free. She wanted to be free. She wanted to be free. Suddenly, a door appeared.

Curious, she opened the door. Augusta felt her breath catch in her throat. It was a fairly large sized room. The floor was marley taped and there were mirrors along every wall. Along the back wall, was a barre. A dancing room! If only she had her dance things...out of nowhere, her pointe shoes, along with her dance clothes, tap shoes, and jazz shoes appeared. Of course...this was the Room of Requirement that her father and Uncle Ron spoke about so fondly!

Gus changed her clothes, pinned her hair up into a bun, and decided to dance ballet first. She thought it was only right, since it was her favorite. She carefully tied her ribbons and pressed up to pointe. She stretched a bit before going into her routine: first a _plié _combination, then _battements tendus, battements dégagés, ronds de jambes, battements frappés, battements fondus, développés (adagio), and grande battements. _She finished and stretched her aching muscles again. Now, the fun part: center!

She walked to the center of the room and positioned herself. Although she hated it, she knew that _adagio_ came first. She never truly understood why some people loved it, although she understood the importance of it. _Adage_ required a load of strength, grace, and fluidity. After she suffered through her _adage_, she moved on to _tendus, ronds de jambes, frappés, pirouettes, _and _grande battements._

After grande battements came petit allegro. Petit allegro and grande allegro were her favorite. Augusta felt as if she was flying and she loved it. Petit allegro was small, fast jumps that barely leave the ground, and grande allegro was large, fast jumps that are high in the air.

After her workout, she decided it was time for the real fun to begin. She walked gracefully to the corner of the room so she would have enough space to fly through the air.

_Six piqué turns and hold the last one in passe! Chassé, tour jété, balancé. Tambe pas de bourré, glissade, grande pas de chat. Balancé, balancé, three chenne turns in a two count. Chassé pas de bourré, double pirouette. Four fouettés, and land en pointe in second arabesque. Six hops back, balaté, en dehours piqué turn to B+ finish._

Augusta came out of her trance and wondered what she had been thinking about as she had just realized she was dancing. She didn't think that was normal--how could she not realize she was dancing? The movements just came so naturally to her! It was like breathing...except that when she danced, she let go. She was free...she was free.

After ballet, Augusta decided to practice some tap, as she loved it almost as much as ballet and hadn't had time to practice it. She loved jazz as well, but she didn't feel quite as...free...as when she was dancing ballet or tap.

_Stomp-hop-back -flap-ball change-hop-back flap-ball change-hop-back. Shuffle-hop-step-step-step-shuffle-hop-step…Hop-pull back-hop-pull back…Flap-heel-stomp-back flap-heel-heel-flap-heel-toe-back flap-heel toe…Stomp-cramp roll-pull through-stomp-cramp roll-shuffle-shuffle-step…_Gus kept dancing and dancing and dancing. After tap, she did jazz. After she did jazz, she did ballet again. When she finally finished, she realized it was almost dinner time; she had missed her afternoon classes.

She didn't really care all that much, which surprised her. She had never missed a class anywhere in her life. The thought of skipping class was almost exhilarating. If only she had skipped class on purpose! Now _that_ would be something to make Charlie proud.

The thought of making Charlotte proud disgusted her and she vowed never to miss a class again. Augusta changed back into her robes, set her hair into her usual braids and put her dance things into her bag and set off to find the Potions Master to apologize for missing his class.

Severus Snape sat at his desk grading papers. He tried hard to concentrate, but all he could think about was the Potter girl and why she failed to show up for class. It just wasn't like her. True, her mother was gone now, but she had been acting normally since. Maybe _that_ was the problem...as if on cue, he heard a sharp rap on the door.

"Enter." Drawled Snape in his usual menacing tone. In walked none other than Augusta Potter.

"Nice to see you finally showed up. You're a bit late, you idiot child. Class ended fifteen minutes ago." Augusta nodded. "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to miss it. I just lost track of time."

"Lost track of time, doing what?" Gus gulped. She knew this narrow-minded professor would never accept her excuse, even if it was true. "I was dancing." Gus maintained eye contact. She read once in a book that eye contact showed confidence. Hopefully Snape wouldn't be able to tell her confidence was an illusion.

"Dancing. You were _dancing_ instead of brewing _potions_." Augusta nodded. "Why, Ms. Potter?" Augusta's browed furrowed in confusion. "Charlotte Weasley was being rude. I needed to express myself in another way besides yelling. That really gets you nowhere. I just lost track of time."

"No, Potter. Why do you dance?" Snape wasn't sure why he was speaking to her this way. Maybe it was out of pity. Maybe it was out of curiosity. All he knew was that he was not acting in his usual manner.

"Why do I dance?" _Oh no. Another explanation of how much dance means to me. This is the third time this year already!_

"Why do I dance?" Augusta asked herself. She frowned. "You know, Professor, I've already had to explain to Nolan Sanders what I feel while I dance. I've explained to Charlie...Charlotte...why I don't dance for attention. I've never thought about why I dance."

"So think about it, Potter." Snape wasn't being friendly or warm, but he wasn't being his usual menacing self, either. Perhaps it was because Little Gussie Potter didn't fear him the way the other students did.

"I don't know _why_ I dance." Gus took in a deep breath. "It's like this: A person doesn't exactly _choose_ to dance. Dance chooses you. I have no choice..." Augusta seemed surprised with her answer. But then, deep inside herself, she found more to the answer. "It's the way I express my soul...my heart-felt expression. Dance is my calling." She gave a slight laugh. "I can either engage myself or deny myself, I suppose. I don't dance because it's easy or because it's a guarantee for success and happiness. Because it's neither. I dance because...because it's what I need. Just like the air you breathe, Professor."

Snape seemed satisfied enough with the answer. "Detention tomorrow night." Augusta was surprised. That was all he was giving her. "Sir?"

"And an essay explaining how dance helped you cope with...your mother's death." Snape's usual evil glint was back in his eye. "No..." Augusta choked out. To the world it may seem like she was over her mother's death, but in truth, she had barely begun mourning.

"No? Ah...so would you like...a month of detention with Filch and, say, you aren't allowed to return home for Easter?"  
"You can't do that..."  
"Just like you can't miss class? Yes, _Potter_, I can give you detention, and I _can_ take away your Easter holiday!"  
"But my father needs me."  
"No, Potter. You need your father!"

Augusta looked at her professor in a new light. "I'll do the essay." Snape nodded; aware he had pushed the girl too far. "Hand it in at the end of the year. I want to see drafts, and I want to see a good, clear thesis statement. You may leave."

Snape put his head back down and resumed grading papers. He barely heard Augusta leave, she was so quiet.

**Ballet Terms: **

**Tambe pas de bourre: **Tambe means to fall and pas de bourre is a small traveling jump. So, tambe pas de bourre, is a jump where you "fall" onto one leg and step back-side-front-side.**  
Glissade:** Means to glide. A connecting step. **  
Grande jete:** A long horizontal jump, usually forward, starting from one leg and landing on the other. In the middle of the jump, the dancer may be doing a split in midair. One of the most memorable of all ballet jumps; the dancer seems to float in the air, as a result of the shift of his center of gravity from the split. **  
Plié: **A stretching exercise where the knees bend directly over the toes, outward, to form a diamond shape.**  
Battements Tendus: **Tendu means "beatings". The leg stretches out, ending in a strongly pointed foot.**  
Battements Dégagés: **Degage means "disengaged". A movement or position in which the working leg is lifted off the floor.**  
Ronds de Jambes: **A movement in which the working leg is made to describe a letter D about the supporting leg. May be done with the working foot on the floor or in the air. In a rond de jambe en dehors ("outward") on the floor, the working leg moves from first (or fifth) position to pointe tendu forward, makes a half circle to pointe tendu in back, and then returns to first, if the rond de jambe is to be repeated, and otherwise to first or fifth. A wonderful exercise for turnout. In a rond de jambe en dedans ("inward"), the direction of movement is reversed. In a demi rond de jambe, the working leg goes only half-way around, stopping in second position. A grand rond de jambe is executed with the supporting leg in plié. A rond de jambe en l'air ("in the air") is done with the working leg raised off the floor, frequently at an angle of 90 degrees (parallel to the floor). **  
Battements Frappés: **Means to strike. Working foot rests lightly on the ankle of the supporting foot. Throw the working leg forcefully out to a dégagé position so that it strikes the floor 1/3 of the way out. Hold the leg out as long as possible, returning it to its initial position at the last moment. (Russian frappés start in tendu, darting to the supporting leg and back out again.) Can be done to the front, side, or back. **  
Battements Fondus: **Means to melt. Any movement that lowers the body by bending one leg. In a plié, both legs support the body; in a fondu, only one leg supports the body.  
**Développé: **Means "to unfold". The leg starts in passe. The aim is to continue to lift the working knee as high as it will go, then stretch or "unfold" the rest of the leg from this position.**  
Adagio/Adage: **Slow dance combinations with an emphasis on stretching, height, and balance.**  
Grande Battements**: A "kick" in which the working leg is raised as high as possible while keeping the rest of the body still. "Kick" is in quotes because the battement should be a controlled lift, not a throwing of the leg into the air, and the leg must be controlled while coming down. The kicks one associates with a chorus line are grands battements.**  
Pirouette: **A complete turn on one leg. The dancer usually goes round more than once. The raised leg is most commonly held in passe, but pirouettes with the leg in other positions are not uncommon. The dancer spots in order to avoid becoming disoriented. Pirouettes are usually fast, but supported pirouettes, in which a partner steadies the soloist, may be done very slowly. **  
Piqué Turns: **A traveling turn where the dancer steps up over her leg and turns with the other leg in passe.**  
Chassé: **A gliding step. The working leg slides out; put weight on working leg and draw other leg along floor to it. (In American folk dancing, this word was mispronounced, giving rise to the term "sashay.") **  
Tour Jété: **A jump in which you leap in the air, starting with a grande battement as if you were beginning a grand jeté; but in midair, you turn around 180 degrees (by "scissoring" the legs) so you land on the other foot facing back the way you came. **  
Balancé: **A waltz step. For a balancé to the right, start in fifth position. On count of 1-2-3, right foot goes out to the side and the weight is transferred to it (1). Immediately bring left foot behind right and transfer the weight to the ball of the left foot while rising up on it (2). Put your weight back on the right foot flat on the floor (not raised up) (3). A balancé to one side is almost always followed by a balancé to the other side. Balancés can also be done to the front and back**  
Grande pas de chat: **Literally, means, "step of the cat". A jump where one leg goes into passe and comes down and the other leg comes up into passe and comes down before hitting the ground.**  
Chenne turns: **Fast turns on half or full point with the legs in a tight first position, rotating a half turn on one foot and the other half on the other foot. Done one after the other so they're "chained" together. **  
Chassé pas de bourre: **Like tambe pas de bourre, but instead of "falling", you slide into the jump.**  
Fouette: **Means to whip. A turn in which a whipping motion of the working leg makes the body go around.**  
En pointe: **En means "on". On pointe is when a dancer wears her toe shoes and dances on the tips of her toes.**  
Arabesque: **When the dancer lifts her leg to the back as high as it will go.**  
Hops: **On pointe, when a dancer hops, it is very difficult to keep the weight unchanged.**  
Balaté: **Means to toss. Begin in 5th, right leg front. Spring straight upward with both legs held tightly together, as the body begins to tilt slightly backward at the apex of the jump. The body lands on the left foot while the right is thrown open to the front. Repeat backwards, with a slight tilt to the front at the apex of the jump. **  
B: **Either a finishing or beginning pose where the front leg is crossed behind the front.**  
**


End file.
